Andrew actually thought that would remain to be seen. “He’s touching the back of his head and wincing.”
A curl bounced against his cheek. “They went sailing. He might have got hit by the boom.”
Ah yes. He remembered sailors scuttling out of the way of the large wooden things on the ship, but that was a demmed silly name for a massive piece of wood. “You wouldn’t happen to know why it’s called a boom, would you?”
A light lit in his betrothed’s eyes. “Papa says it’s because it goes boom as it hits a person on the head.”
Andrew gave a bark of laughter. He’d come to appreciate his future father-in-law’s wry sense of humor. “Very understandable.”
He went back to looking through the hole. “Eugénie has gone inside, and Will’s groom is with him now. Something is wrong.”
“How can you tell?”
“They are both frowning.”
Andrew glanced over his shoulder as Cicely drew her brows together. “Oh dear. I hope it’s not to do with Eugénie.”
“Most likely it is.” He was concerned as well. Cicely was so often with her friend that any potential danger to one was a threat to both of the ladies. “Griff has left, and Will is grinning again.”
“Perhaps he’s thinking about being with Eugénie.”
“That I don’t doubt.” But in what sense? The rogue had better keep his word to Cicely, or Andrew would pummel him. “Shall I catch up with Will and find out what is going on?”
She removed her hand and stepped back. “Yes, it is the only reasonable course of action.” Her gaze focused on Andrew’s lips. “Kiss me before you go.”
“With pleasure, my love.” He pressed light kisses along her lips, then ran his tongue over them, and she opened her mouth.
God, Cicely was so soft. She tasted of the finest honey. Her tongue tangled with his, and he drew her closer. Not being able to make her his was killing him. “I hate having to put off the wedding.”
“We can’t very well marry without a rector.” Her arms around his neck tightened. “We could still . . .”
They’d received a letter from the clergyman on Tortola that he’d not be able to make the trip for another two weeks. “As much as I’d like to, you know we cannot.”
He nibbled her jaw. Not only were there no special licenses here, there was a dearth of English vicars as well—none, in fact. The Danes made the process of getting married much easier than the English. Unfortunately, Mrs. Whitecliff wouldn’t hear of a ceremony that was not performed by a Church of England clergyman. “What if something should happen to me?”
“I know. Yet at this rate, it will be months.” A heavy sigh escaped her and she kissed him firmly. “You’d better go.”
Andrew reached around for the latch. She was right. If he didn’t leave now, his resolve might desert him. “I’ll see you before dinner.”
Their fingers touched until the last possible moment. Damn. Did nothing move swiftly on this island?
“Wivenly.”
Will turned as Andrew caught up to him. “What have you been up to today?”
“Having my wedding delayed.”
Will raised a brow.
“Rector can’t come over for two more weeks,” his friend said in an exasperated tone. “How did the sailing go?”
“Other than being hit in the head by the boom, very well.” Better than that, actually. “Eugénie is an amazing sailor. She can handle the boat alone if she has to.”
He wondered what other talents she had. If things went his way, he’d have a lifetime to discover them.
“Did she invite you to accompany her in the morning?”
“She did. My thanks to you and Cicely for telling me about her project.” He glanced up. Dark clouds gathered overhead. If they were lucky, they’d reach the hotel before the rain started. “Andrew, my groom thinks the Vicomte is still interested in Eugénie.”
